


sweet love, renew thy force

by marlowe



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Pie Shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlowe/pseuds/marlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pie Shop AU: in which Richard hates sweets, everyone else is an irritating enabler, and I try not to write Lee Pace as Ned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> written for the hobbit_kink prompt:
> 
> "Richard doesn't like sweets. There is a part of him that wishes he could enjoy the birthday cakes his mum makes him, or partake in the sickeningly sugary cocktails that Graham always makes a point to try out on Richard, but Richard honest-to-God absolutely abhors sweets.
> 
> When a pie shop opens up across the street from his flat, Richard makes a very big show around his friends to ignore it. Even though James lauds the apple ala mode, and Martin eats a heavy slice of pecan every week, Richard honest-to-God absolutely refuses to enter the shop.
> 
> Until he meets the piemaker, that is."
> 
> Primarily Lee/Richard with a smattering of other pairings or suggested pairings in the background (I'll update the tags with each chapter). Unbeta'd so apologies for any errors. I'm a slow writer but hopefully this will be updated soon as I'm really enjoying writing it!

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME, YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER TWAT?"

Richard winced and held the phone away from his ear.

"Good morning to you, too, Martin."

There was a loud huff on the other end of the line. "You don't get a good morning until you explain why you didn't tell me that the best new pie shop in town has moved in across the street from you!"

The kettle was whistling at Richard from the kitchen and he raced in to turn it off before answering. "It's just a pie shop, Martin."

Martin sputtered. "AND?!"

"For god's sake, stop shouting." He poured the water into his mug, nearly splashing it all over the counter as he tried to juggle his phone and the kettle at the same time. "I had no idea you were so invested in baked goods."

"Any normal human being is invested in baked goods, you idiot," he said, sounding slightly less shouty than before, but still very irritable. Then again, irritable seemed to be his general state of being, so Richard figured he was in the clear.

"Well I suppose I'm not a normal human being then."

"We already knew that," Martin said. "You're an alien, aren't you. A pie-hating alien who thrives on the denying the human race of buttery crusts and sugary fruit fillings."

Richard smirked as he stirred his tea. "You caught me. And now I'll have to kill you to protect my cover."

Martin snorted out a laugh on the other end.

"Look, the last thing this neighbourhood needs is a bloody pie shop. Wasn't there just another bakery that opened around the corner last month?"

"Closed for health code violations." Martin sighed heavily. Richard wrinkled his nose and counted himself lucky he had never ventured in there. Not that he would have in the first place; unless they sold regular bread and rolls amongst the iced cakes and glazed tarts, he had no interest whatsoever. He wished he could enjoy the sugary treats that Martin (and the majority of the rest of his friends) loved, but he had never had much of a sweet tooth, and it had grown from a distaste to an outright hatred after years of having things forced on him at birthdays and Christmas and any other celebration he attended. After being sick for nearly two days straight because he choked down a questionable-looking bowl of truffle at his parent's place during the holidays, he swore off the stuff for good.

One thing was certain: he was never stepping foot in that damned pie shop.

"You're coming to the pie shop with me," Martin said, and Richard groaned.

"Absolutely not. Ask Aidan, he always has some sort of ridiculously sugary morsel shoved in his mouth."

"Oh, does Dean count as a ridiculously sugary morsel now?"

Richard was glad Martin wasn't there to see him blush.

"Christ, Martin..."

There was just barely stifled laughter on the other end, and a voice in the background that sounded like Amanda yelling at him to behave.

"Listen to your wife, please," Richard said, dropping his empty mug in the sink and grabbing his keys from the kitchen table. "I have to go to work. Call Aidan, and for the love of god, leave me out of any pie-related business, alright?"

"You're a monster!" Martin yelled, and then hung up on him. Richard shook his head but smiled in spite of himself. It was difficult to be friends with Martin sometimes, though it helped that Richard knew that under all the grumpy blustering he was a complete sweetheart. Even if he had terrible taste in desserts.

\- - - - -

Unfortunately, the whole pie shop excitement didn't blow over as Richard had hoped it would. In fact, it actually intensified to the point where if Richard had to sit through another conversation about crusts or strawberries or crumble topping he may actually murder someone.

"I'm sure he uses dark magic to get it so flaky," Aidan was saying, and Adam nodded sagely as if he was being let in on some incredible secret. Richard rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I saw that!" Aidan said, stabbing a finger at him across the table.

"Yeah, don't disrespect the pie, man," Adam added, attempting and failing to look threatening.

Richard held up his hands in defeat, leaning back against his chair. Serves him right for agreeing to go out to dinner with his three youngest coworkers who all had unstoppable metabolisms and bottomless pits for stomachs.

Dean, who was the closest to him in age and therefore his favourite at the moment, shot him a look of sympathy before nudging Aidan in the ribs.

"Leave him be, Aid. How would you feel if he went on about... I don't know, brussel sprouts for hours?"

Aidan made a face. "I'd feel pretty weird about it. No one likes brussel sprouts that much. But everyone loves pie!"

"I give up," Richard said, pushing himself up out of his chair and heading to the bar, ignoring Aidan's pleas for forgiveness behind him. He found an empty seat near the end and twiddled with a coaster until Graham had a free moment to come over.

"Finally, someone old enough to grow facial hair, dear god Graham save me."

A shot of whiskey found its way into his hand and Richard tipped it back, clinking the glass against one of the bar taps in thanks.

"Any time," Graham said, an amused smile creeping across his face. Richard and Graham had become friendly when Richard moved to the neighbourhood and discovered a new favourite haunt in Graham's restaurant. They had become _friends_ after nearly drinking the place dry one night after closing, drowning their sorrows over an arsehole ex and a distinct lack of a love life, respectively.

"Young ones tired you out, then?"

Richard shrugged. "The topic of conversation has tired me out, is more like it. I swear if I hear one more word about that pie shop..."

Graham bit his bottom lip.

"Oh god. Not you, too!"

"Richard... it's really good pie."

The bar was wet and sticky against his forehead but he couldn't bring himself to move. "Lord give me fucking strength."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, sorry this took so long! I've found that writing a few different things in between chapters helps so bear with me if it seems like I'm not getting anywhere with this... I am! Just... slowly...
> 
> Also this is disgustingly fluffy.

The final straw was when he opened the communal fridge at work to put his lunch in and couldn't, because it was completely filled to the brim with pie boxes.

He marched back to his desk, lunch bag in hand, and sent out an email.

**TO:** All Staff  
 **SUBJECT:** You know what this is about

**MEETING. MY OFFICE. NOW.**

They trickled in slowly, eyeing Richard warily like he was a rabid dog on a fraying leash. Jed and Mark unconsciously put themselves in front of Adam, and Dean and Aidan huddled together by the door. Stephen, always the optimist, smiled carefully before settling himself into the chair by Richard's desk. Ken propped himself up against the far wall, arms crossed and wearing an annoyed yet curious expression on his face, and William sidled up beside him. Finally James strolled in, carrying a plate in his hand. His fork was midway to his mouth before Richard noticed.

"No! No, see that... that is EXACTLY what I am talking about!"

James frowned. "You haven't said anything yet. Did I miss something?"

"Richard doesn't want us to be happy, James," Adam piped up before scurrying back behind Jed's shoulder.

Richard groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What I _want_ is to be able to put my sandwich in the break room fridge without having to wade through boxes upon boxes of that bloody pie.”

“I don't see what all the fuss is about, why don't you just tr-”

Jed elbowed Mark in the ribs, hard, but Richard still levelled him with a steely glare that made everyone else relieved they weren't on the receiving end of it.

“What Mark _meant_ to say,” Stephen said, looking around nervously, “is that we're sorry about the pie boxes and we'll get rid of them this morning.”

“Or at least... consolidate them,” James added, staring longingly at his plate that Ken had stolen away from him.

Adam peeked out from behind Jed's shoulder again. “But you really should try a piece.”

Richard couldn't really be mad at Adam – it would be like slapping a baby or something – so he settled for an exasperated sigh.

“Listen. I am not trying the pie. I don't like pie. I never have. And if one more person mentions it again I'll-”

“Sorry I'm late, everyone! I brought another raspberry rhubarb, and he added a pinch of cinnamon to the crust on this one... it's absolutely _divine_. I'm just going to put this in the fridge, be back in a jiffy.” Ian breezed by the office with a pie box held aloft in one hand, waving merrily with the other, his pink and orange scarf flowing behind him.

It was so quiet in the room that William forced out a cough just to break the tension.

“We'll, er, have a word with Ian,” Ken said.

“Thank you,” Richard whispered.

\- - - - -

"What the actual fuck are you doing in there, Armitage? I've been waiting for 8 million hours out here, let's go!"

Richard poked his head around the door of his bathroom and frowned. "You've been here for literally two minutes, relax. I'm almost ready." He retreated back into the bathroom and pushed at his hair again, willing it to stay in place. "Why are you in such a hurry, anyway, we have plenty of time."

Martin was suddenly very quiet.

"... Martin?"

More silence.

"Martin, you haven't died have you? That would be incredibly inconvenient, I mean, I'd have to find another ride to Dean's place and don't think for one second I'm lugging your body around with me tonight, this isn't Weekend At bloody Bernie's."

He stepped out into the living room after wrangling his hair into place as much as he could and found Martin sitting on the couch, fiddling nervously with the fringe on the throw blanket, looking very jumpy and un-Martin like. Richard stared at him until he finally let out a resigned sigh.

"Look. Please just... don't yell at me, alright? I have a fragile disposition."

Richard snorted, but gestured for him to continue.

"We have to stop by the pie shop."

Richard sputtered and started to protest but Martin hopped up off the couch and grabbed his jacket, thrusting it into Richard's hands.

"No, nope, stop, listen, it will take 5 minutes, I just need to pick up a pie I ordered for Dean for his birthday, come on Richard it's his birthday, you can't deny a man pie on his birthday, no one is that much of an arsehole."

Richard clenched his fingers in his jacket, wrinkling the material terribly. Martin was right. There was no way he could get out of this without sounding like a complete twat.

"Five. Minutes."

Martin grinned.

\- - - - -

The pie shop had a name, apparently. It was called The Pie Hole, and Richard thought it sounded vaguely dirty. The storefront was made up of a massive pie crust protruding from the wall like an awning, tacky and charming all at once. Martin pushed open the door and a bell tinkled lightly (of course they had a bell, Richard thought).

"Martin!"

A wee blonde woman practically leapt across the counter to hug him, and Richard was surprised to see that Martin actually hugged her back without even the hint of a grumble.

"Kristin, light of my life and bringer of pies, how are you this fine morning then?"

Kristin smiled sweetly. "I feel like I'm only the light of your life because I am the bringer of pies, but I'll let that slide just this once."

Martin laughed. Richard was confused.

"Oh, sorry, Kristin this is Richard. Richard, Kristin."

Richard extended his hand but found himself wrapped up in a tight hug of his own. She barely came up to his waist and he wasn't quite sure what to do with the tiny woman clinging to him, so he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"You smell nice," she said, and Richard blushed furiously, much to Martin's amusement.

"Kristin, when you're finished assaulting the customers can you please come back here and box up the tarts for Anna's order?"

Richard glanced up at the strange, deep, American voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. In fact, it came out of a man leaning against the door to the kitchen. He was wearing an apron, but aside from that he could have been completely naked for all Richard knew because he found himself unable to look away from the impossibly cute, shy smile on his face. He was still staring when Kristin untangled herself from around his waist and flitted off into the kitchen, presumably to box up tarts as directed. She flashed him a bright smile that was completely lost on him before squeezing past the man in the doorway and disappearing.

"Sorry about that," the man said, rubbing the back of his neck, "she doesn't really know what personal space is. It's charming, really, once you get to know her, but it can be a little... odd, at first."

“Right. Of course. I mean, no! It's... it's fine. Great. I'm sure she's... lovely.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and Richard had never wanted to strangle him as much as he did in that moment. Luckily the man either didn't notice how Richard had apparently forgotten how to form sentences, or he didn't care.

“You're a friend of Martin's?”

Richard managed to shake himself out of his stupor – not before his cheeks bloomed an embarrassing shade of pink again – and smiled tentatively. “Yes... most of the time.”

Martin grumbled and the man laughed, and once again Richard found himself completely transfixed by his smile. It was genuine, warm, and it made the corners of his eyes crinkle and the apples of his cheeks glow. He felt like a teenager with a crush, and when the man walked over to them his heart actually thumped a little bit faster.

“I'm Lee,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Richard.”

Lee's palm was warm, soft, and... slightly sticky.

“Oh, shit, sorry about that,” he said, making a face and wiping his hand on his apron. “It's the peaches. I'm experimenting, so it's a little messy back there.”

Martin was immediately interested. “Do tell!”

Lee chuckled. “You know I don't give out my recipes. You'll just have to wait like everyone else, even if you are one of my best customers.”

“Oh.” Richard's brain finally started coming around. “Oh! So, you're the piemaker.”

“That would be me, yes.” 

Richard didn't quite know what his reaction to that piece of information should be, so Martin decided for him.

“There you are, Richard, now you have someone to direct your pie-related rage at instead of the rest of us poor souls.”

Lee looked amused. Richard was horrified.

“Pie-related rage?”

“It's nothing,” Richard said, waving a hand dismissively, but Martin didn't let up.

“Richard hates pie, Lee. I know, I know, I was as shocked as you are right now when I found out, but it's true.”

Lee didn't really look shocked, more curious as to the situation unfolding itself in front of him.

“So I take it you haven't tried any of my creations, then?” Lee asked.

Richard shook his head and tried to offer an apologetic smile but it came out as more of a grimace. Lee hummed thoughtfully.

“Well... maybe I'll let you have the first taste of my new recipe when it's ready. It's going to be great, I can feel it.”

Martin protested loudly, yelling something about injustices and crusts, but Richard was barely listening and quite frankly he didn't think Lee was listening either. He was just staring at him, a soft smile playing across his lips and a slight furrow in his brow, as if he was studying a particularly interesting foreign specimen under a microscope for the first time. Richard swallowed thickly, and when Martin stopped complaining long enough to breathe he spoke up.

“Martin's right, I don't know if I'd be the right person to...” He trailed off, not really sure how to say it without offending Lee, who had done nothing but smile and be kind to him, the strange man in his bakery who apparently hated his life's work. Luckily he didn't have to continue as they were all distracted by a loud crash from the kitchen, and Kristin's tiny voice yelling something about dogs covered in flour. Lee winced.

“Sorry, I have to go, er, fix that.” He walked a few steps but then turned back, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I'd like it if you came back, Richard. Maybe pie hasn't really been your thing in the past, but I'm really, really good at what I do and if there's anyone who can find one that you'll love, it's me. I promise.”

He looked up at Richard through his lashes, an odd combination of shy and proud, and Richard knew he didn't stand a chance.

“Alright... alright. I will.”

Lee's smile bloomed across his face, brighter than before if that was even possible, and he gave a short wave to both of them before disappearing into the kitchen. Martin was opening his mouth to say something when Lee stuck his head out of the door again, looking slightly concerned.

“Oh, and... if you could _not_ mention the fact that there are dogs running around in the kitchen that would be great. The health inspectors in this city kind of frown on that.”

They both nodded, and Lee looked relieved.

“Thanks. And, um, see you later.”

He didn't even pretend to look at Martin when he said that.

Richard felt warm all over. He watched the kitchen door swing after Lee left, the image of his grin practically burned into his brain, and he felt himself smiling too. For once, the sweet scent of fruit and sugar in the air wasn't making his stomach ache, perhaps because it was too busy housing the butterflies he hadn't felt in what seemed like years. It was only after a few moments of staring at the door with a dazed look on his face that he realized Martin was laughing at him.

“Wow. You are _so_ fucked.”

“Shut up, Martin.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was much faster, and now I feel like a tit for saying it would take a while.
> 
> Again, ludicrous amounts of cavity-inducing fluff... and a puppy!
> 
> (PS: Thank you SO much for all your comments and kudos. I'm one of those people who is absolute shit at replying and I am trying to get better, but just know that your comments seriously make my day and encourage me to keep going... you're all awesome)

It was Friday night and Richard had taken up residence on his usual bar stool in The Red Lion, sipping idly on his wine and being the not-entirely-unwilling guinea pig for Graham's new chef to try out his appetizers on.

"Oh, this is definitely my favourite," he said in between mouthfuls of an absolutely delicious crab cake. Andy beamed happily and rubbed his hands together.

"Fantastic. New item for the menu then, Graham?"

Graham popped a forkful into his mouth and pretended to consider it for a moment. Andy squirmed nervously and Richard tried to hide his smile behind the rim of his wine glass.

Graham swallowed. "Perfect. Tell me what you need and we'll start serving it next week."

Andy practically melted with relief and gave Richard a good-natured nudge with his shoulder as he gathered up his plates and headed back into the kitchen, but not before Richard stole the rest of the crab cakes and deposited them in a napkin for later. Graham raised an eyebrow.

"What? Eventually you're going to wise up and make me start paying for these things, so I'm enjoying it while I can."

Graham chuckled lowly and was about to respond but he was distracted by a loud, high-pitched giggle from across the room. He leaned around Richard to eye the table where Adam, Dean, and Aidan had congregated. Adam was already three sheets to the wind and his cheeks were flushed red, partially from the alcohol and also from whatever filthy comment Aidan had just made. He caught Graham's eye and waggled his fingers in greeting, a bright smile plastered across his face, and Graham mimicked his wave in reply, adding a shushing motion to the end of it. Adam mouthed 'sorry' and pouted slightly. Graham cleared his throat and busied himself with cleaning the top of the bar - which happened to be spotless already - and resolutely avoided Richard's questioning gaze.

"Graham..."

"Richard..."

"Is there something you should be telling me?"

Graham shrugged and tried to look nonchalant, leaning against the bar on one elbow. "Of course not."

Richard hummed and took another sip of his wine.

"Anyway, shouldn't I be asking the same of you?"

Richard suddenly forgot how to swallow and coughed a little, the wine burning his throat on the way down. Graham grinned.

"Don't change the subject," Richard said when he was finally done choking.

"It's my restaurant, I can do what I want. Now... I hear you met the piemaker."

It had to have been Martin that told him, that meddling little bastard. Richard rued the day he brought Martin to meet Graham and they immediately got along like a house on fire, bonding over the perverse joy they seemed to get from poking their noses into Richard's business and hassling him endlessly.

"Yes."

"... and?"

"And he was a very nice man and Martin picked up Dean's pie and we left."

"That's all?"

"Of course that's all," Richard replied, a bit edgier than normal.

Graham put his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. But... you are going back, aren't you?"

"I suppose... I would feel a bit rude if I didn't, especially after Martin exposed me for the horrible pie-hating monster that I am. I think Lee took it as a personal challenge or something."

"He did, did he?" Graham asked, a knowing smirk ghosting across his face that was eerily similar to the one Martin had only a few days before. Richard frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"Why do I get the feeling that something is going on here that I am unaware of?"

Graham tried to look innocent and failed spectacularly, but luckily he was rescued by Adam sauntering up and leaning on the bar, resting his chin in his hands and smiling sweetly.

"I've been sent to fetch another round," he said.

Graham forced a stern look on his face and crossed his arms. "You've had quite enough. I should cut you off and get one of those idiots to call you a cab."

"Noooooo no no, Graham, please, just one more! I'm celebrating, after all!"

Adam had saved the company a incredible sum of money (and the embarrassment of screwing up royally in front of one of their largest clients) and was rewarded with a promotion, so naturally Aidan and Dean had taken him out after work to congratulate him by getting him spectacularly drunk. It was Adam's choice to come to The Red Lion and Richard was beginning to understand why.

Graham tried to resist, but it only took another minute of Adam pleading and smiling until he crumbled.

"Fine, fine, you bloody little pest!"

Adam grinned and turned to give a thumbs up to Aidan and Dean who cheered loudly.

"What do you want?"

Adam turned back and bit his lip, looking up at the wall of bottles behind the bar for a moment, and then directly at Graham.

"Something sweet," he said, his smile softening into one that was unmistakably fond. "Surprise me."

Graham flushed all the way up his neck, and Richard took that as his cue to finish his wine, grab his crab cakes, and head home.

\- - - - -

The next day Richard allowed himself to sleep in, ignoring the birds chirping cheerfully outside and snuggling deeper into his comforter instead. He had a slight headache from the wine and decided to sleep it off; it was Saturday, and the only plans he had were to run a few small errands.

And go to the pie shop.

He rolled over and rubbed his eyes, frowning at the tightness in his stomach when he thought about seeing Lee again. It was completely ridiculous. He felt like a lovesick teenager and he barely even knew the man, not to mention he was forty years old and should know better by now. But his stomach disagreed, turning itself into knots as he fretted over what to wear, and he finally he gave up on going back to sleep and pushed himself out of bed and into the shower.

After about five different outfits he decided on something simple: a plain navy blue t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt, of course, was fitted to within an inch of it's life because although Richard was admittedly shy, he was also slightly vain, and he knew exactly how to dress to accentuate his best features. He looked presentable, but not too fancy that he would seem out of place in the kitchen of a bakery... or give off the impression that he was trying to impress someone... even though he was.

He sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. It had been years since he had met anyone who had peaked his interest like this, and the last relationship he was in had ended badly, to say the least, so his nerves were already frayed and he wasn't even sure that Lee had any interest in him at all. Maybe he was just being friendly. He frowned at himself and shook his head.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, before smoothing his hair down one last time and heading out the door.

\- - - - -

The Pie Hole was incredibly crowded, lined up nearly out the door with people waiting to get their hands (and mouths) on one of the now-famous slices of pie. Richard squeezed past a family who were fighting over what fruit filling they should choose and wondered whether he should have picked another day to come by, but then he saw Kristin waving cheerfully to him from the cash register and beckoning him over. He wound his way through the throngs of people and smiled, raising his eyebrows at the line stretching around the small bakery.

"Is it usually like this?" he asked, shrinking away from the man beside him who looked like he was about to pounce at him for cutting in line.

Kristin laughed. "Yup. Lee's got the magic touch!"

Richard bit his lip and tried not to let his mind get carried away with that.

"Speaking of..."

"Oh he's in the back, go on through! He's been excited to see you, you know. I don't think I've ever seen him so determined to make a pie before."

The butterflies came back in full force and Richard let out a surprised little laugh. Kristin turned her attentions back to the line of customers, and Richard stood there awkwardly for a moment before he remembered he was supposed to head back into the kitchen.

He pushed the swinging door open and was immediately assaulted by the smell of strawberries. Piles of fruit were littering the gleaming stainless steel tables, mixed in with large mounds of flour and dough. Rolling racks full of cooling pies were lined up along the far wall and one of the kitchen staff was packing the finished ones into boxes. The kitchen itself was surprisingly large, and the white stone walls gave it an old, comforting feeling rather than the usual sterile, modern starkness of a restaurant like Graham's. Richard felt heat blast against the side of his face as one of the large ovens on the wall beside him was opened and three pies were removed, only to be replaced by three more.

He had to step back as one of the staff whipped by carrying a precarious looking stack of pie boxes, and he nearly tripped over a mass of fur curled up by the wall.

"Oh! Hello there, puppy," he said, bending down to pet the dog at his feet. The dog immediately started panting happily and rolled over so Richard could rub his belly. Richard laughed as the dog squirmed around on the floor, and he didn't even notice someone standing beside him until he spoke.

"I see you've met Carl."

Richard looked up and Lee was smiling down at him, every bit as handsome as Richard remembered, except he looked slightly more flushed and seemed to be nearly covered in flour.

" _Carl_?"

Lee's smile widened as Carl let out a bark of happiness. "Yes. Do you have a problem with my dog being named Carl?"

Richard laughed and gave Carl one last rub before standing up and straightening his shirt out. "Not at all. He looks like a Carl," he said with a smile, glancing back down as he felt the dog pawing at his leg.

"Go on, lay down," Lee said, and Carl let out a small whine before turning around and flopping back down on the floor. "He's usually really good so no one minds having him back here, as long as he stays out from underfoot. We had an incident with some blueberry tarts one day that left him dyed an unpleasant shade of turquoise for a while and I think it shamed him enough that he learned his lesson."

Carl buried his nose under his paws and both of them chuckled, then looked back up to meet each others eyes. Richard ducked his head, suddenly shy now that the dog was out of the picture and it was just him that Lee was focusing on.

“So... a bit hectic today?”

Lee exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, streaking it white with flour and making Richard bite the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning.

“Yeah, just a little. We had two people call in sick and one of the ovens nearly died on us this morning so we've been playing catch-up all day, really.”

“I... it's a bad time, I can come back later, it's-”

“No, no, don't even think about it!” Lee's lunged and grabbed at Richard's biceps as if he was afraid he was going to take off running out the door. He looked like he was momentarily derailed as glanced down at Richard's arms before swallowing thickly. Richard had never been more pleased with his fashion choices. Lee managed to pull himself together and looked back up at Richard's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “I have a pie for you to taste!”

They made their way to the rear of the kitchen where there was a bit less hustle and bustle, and there was one lone pie sitting on a rolling cart with a fork beside it. Lee looked at Richard expectantly.

He was already feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the sugar and fruit and custards and _Lee_ that Richard didn't know if his stomach could take it. But, that's what he came here to do, and he also didn't think there was a person on this earth who could have resisted Lee's puppy-dog expression at that moment.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Lee shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Richard nodded. He took a deep breath, dug his fork in, and just went for it.

The taste of the peach filling was almost sharp in it's intensity, and it wasn't made any less intense by the addition of what Richard thought were raspberries. The crust was light and airy but it was sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar and it only added to the veritable sweetness explosion in his mouth. He involuntarily winced, and it felt like someone dropped a lead weight in his stomach when Lee's face fell slightly.

He managed to chew it enough to swallow (thank god, he didn't even want to think about how embarrassing it would have been to have had to spit it out in a napkin or something... that was not a foreign concept to him) and immediately started apologizing.

“Lee, I'm so sorry, I'm sure it's absolutely lovely, I mean look at that insane crowd of people out there, they all love your pie and I just... I just...”

“Richard, it's ok,” Lee said, smiling softly again as he took the fork out of his hand and set it back down next to the pie. “I should have known better. When Martin said you hated sweets I honestly thought he was exaggerating... well, I mean, can you blame me? It _is_ Martin after all.”

Richard managed a laugh at that, and looked up nervously at Lee to see that he was back to his usual bright self, as if nothing had even happened.

“I'll just have to try something less sweet next time.”

Richard's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “Next time?”

Lee looked at him plainly. “Of course. You don't think I've given up on you this easily, do you?”

It was impossible to tell if it was the sugar or the butterflies again that were causing the riot in his stomach, but Richard couldn't really bring himself to care. He smiled, wide and open, and Lee returned it in kind.

“Lee!” And just like that, the moment was gone, and they both turned to see a panicked-looking teenager with a phone and pad of paper scrunched in his hand. “It's Mr. Jackson. He needs twenty pies by 5pm for a party he's throwing. I think I wrote them down properly... three raspberry and one cherry with that whipped cream topping and... er... hold on I can't read my own writing...”

“It's ok, I'll talk to him. You go start rolling out the crusts ok?”

The teenager nodded with relief and dropped the phone in Lee's hand. Lee cast an apologetic grin at Richard and shrugged his shoulders.

“The life of a piemaker, you know?”

Richard laughed and toed at a stray blackberry that had fallen to the floor.

“So... if I haven't scared you off with my horribly sweet desserts yet-”

Richard glanced up quickly and started to half-protest and half-apologize again, but Lee stopped him with a raised hand.

“Maybe you can come by after closing, when it's a little less... _this_? We're usually quieter during the week. Are you free Wednesday night?”

“Yes, definitely,” Richard said without even thinking. If he had any other plans for Wednesday, they could wait.

“Perfect. Just come by and knock on the window and Kristin will let you in. She'll probably still be here closing up the cash and stuff.”

Lee looked like he wanted to say something else, but he glanced down at the phone in his hand, then back up at Richard. “Shit. I really have to go.”

“It's ok,” Richard said, and in a rare moment of bravery he reached out and squeezed Lee's shoulder. It was a touch that could have been interpreted at something friendly, nothing too intimate, but it was a touch all the same. He felt the heat of Lee's skin through his thin white t-shirt and held on for a moment longer. “I'll see you on Wednesday.”

Just as Richard was about to let go, Lee brought his hand up and placed it on top of Richard's, dragging his fingers lightly across the back of his hand. “Can't wait.”

Then he was gone, off into the chaos of the kitchen with the phone at his ear.

It took Richard a moment to get his legs moving properly, but he did manage eventually, and somehow he even managed to continue on with his day and function like a relatively normal human being although he was lost in a daze for most of it. It wasn't until later, when he was waiting in line at the bank and he had finally become somewhat sensible again, that he realized that the back of his hand was covered in streaks of soft, white flour.


End file.
